


The Sweetheart Next Door

by noxlee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Awkwardness, DeanCas Sweetheart 2018, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Tumblr: deancas-sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/pseuds/noxlee
Summary: Dean just bought a new house. And the next-door neighbour? Smoking hot.





	The Sweetheart Next Door

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _hey, sweetheart_ challenge. 
> 
> Thanks to [Smut_Shipping_Hipster](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Smut_Shipping_Hipster/pseuds/Smut_Shipping_Hipster), [ Thayer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy), and [TreeFrogie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84) for being such great beta readers.

Dean stands on his lawn, surveying the house that now bears his name on the deed. It’s a rundown old thing, in dire need of a new roof and a dozen other imminent fixes. But it’s in a nice neighbourhood and it’s his, and that alone is almost cause to smile. Almost. He doesn’t though, because his gutter chooses that moment to collapse with a screech of metal on the left side, sending the stray cat who has taken to sleeping in his front bushes scurrying.

“And stay out!” Dean yells after it. That goddamn cat is always leaving dead mice everywhere and pissing on his lawn. And it’s forever staring at him and hissing. He’s half convinced it’s possessed.

Dean sighs. The house had seemed like such a great deal and a dream come true. But now, Dean’s seemingly perfect house is beginning to feel less and less perfect as he comes to the realization that he’s bought himself a nightmare. It’s been two weeks since he took possession, and he has been run off his feet between work and trying to fix up the house to a livable condition. All his efforts and it still looks like it may crumble to the ground at any moment.

He’s been so busy he hasn’t even had the chance to get to know the neighbours yet.

He’s briefly met them both. The crotchety old lady to one side who scowls at him from behind her curtains every time he checks the mail, and the younger guy on the other side who’s about Dean’s age. That neighbour — Castiel — seems friendly enough. He had at least welcomed Dean to the neighbourhood with a warm, very firm handshake. They may have talked about the weather as well, though Dean’s foggy on the details, too taken with Castiel’s bright blue eyes and deep voice. And god, that hair.

They’ve exchanged polite nods in passing each morning, but very few actual words. Hoping to change that, Dean is spending his Sunday afternoon in the front yard, attempting to garden. He’s pulling what looks like weeds and trying his valiant best to encourage the few remaining flowers. And hey, maybe catch another glimpse of his new neighbour.

He’s distracted — crouched down in the dirt trying to figure out whether a large leafy thing is a viable plant or just a weed — when he hears his neighbour call out to him in a low voice.

“Hey, sweetheart!”

Dean freezes, caught off guard. The tone is cloyingly sweet, and he grins a little. They’ve barely exchanged words and now he’s calling him _sweetheart_?

He stands up and turns to face Castiel, flashing the flirtiest smile he can muster as he saunters over. “Bit forward, don’t you think?” Dean calls back. “Buy a guy a drink first, why don’t you?”

Castiel stares at him in something resembling surprise. “Oh, hello Dean. I didn’t see you there.”

Dean frowns and stops mid-stride. If Castiel didn’t see him then who the hell was he talking to? There’s no one else around in— Dean spins around to be sure and sees the stray cat trotting towards them. It hisses at Dean as it passes and makes its way into Castiel’s waiting arms. Not a stray then. Castiel scoops it up and coos at it softly. “Hi sweetheart. What have you been up to, hmm?”

“Sweetheart?” Dean scoffs. “That thing? Really?”

It’s Castiel’s turn to scowl at him as he strokes the cat. “This is Meg. Isn’t she an angel?”

“More like a demon,” Dean mutters under his breath.

Castiel’s face softens into a look of dawning comprehension. “Wait, you— did you think I was talking to you?”

Dean can feel his face heating up. It gets worse as Castiel laughs. A chuckle at first, and then a deep throaty laugh. His head tips back and his lips spread wide into a contagious sort of smile that might be kind of adorable if Dean weren’t currently the most humiliated he’s ever been in his life.

He mumbles his apologies and hurries inside, where he avoids Castiel for the rest of the day. And the day after. And the day after that. He waits until Castiel has left for work before venturing outside, and rushes back inside whenever he returns. And it’s strange— Castiel normally keeps a pretty regular schedule, leaving first thing in the morning in his suit and tie and ridiculous trench coat that Dean maybe finds a little endearing, and coming back at dusk. Not that Dean’s been paying particularly close attention or anything. But Castiel been popping back home unexpectedly during the day, at odd times. He’ll call out and start to come over, but Dean’s always quick to come up with some excuse that sends him hurrying indoors before there’s any chance at conversation. Dean’s got plenty of work to do inside, after all. That shag carpet in the living room isn’t going to disappear on its own.

On the fourth day, as Dean peers out his window to check for the all-clear, he realizes with sudden horror that he has become the the old lady next door: scowling at his neighbour and peeking out at him through his curtains. If Dean is going to spend the next few years here — and he certainly plans to — he needs to make nice with the neighbour. If he could only level the playing field somehow…

Dean smiles to himself as a revenge plan begins to formulate. Some good-natured fun that will hopefully ease the tension between them and allow them to start over fresh.

On Saturday, he pulls his impala — his baby — out of the garage and into the driveway. He waits until Castiel is outside gardening before he heads outside himself to wash his car wearing his short shorts that leave little to the imagination.

He’s only just begun to unravel the hose when Castiel notices him. He stops with the rake in his hands and stares at Dean like he’s seeing a ghost. Which, to be fair, Dean has certainly made himself scarce over the past few days. He shoots Castiel a small smile and makes a show of peeling off his shirt. Castiel’s jaw drops and he starts to cross his lawn towards Dean. Dean smirks to himself, and prepares to strike.

He waits until Castiel is close enough, until he’s within hearing range, before he looks him square in the eye, and smiles wider. He runs his hand over Baby’s hood, and as seductively as he can manage, he purrs, “Hey there, sweetheart.”

Castiel freezes. His rake hangs comically in one hand, his mouth ajar. His blue eyes go wide and he stares at Dean.

Dean gives it a long moment, savouring the look on Castiel’s face, before he finally clears his throat.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, his deep voice pitching higher than normal.

Dean smirks. “Oh hey. Didn’t see you there, Cas.” The nickname flows off his tongue easily.

Castiel looks around in bewilderment and Dean can’t contain his grin.

“I was just talking to my baby here. Ain’t she beautiful? Hey there, sweetheart.” He strokes his hand along the car’s hood again.

Castiel just stares. A beat passes, in which Dean quietly celebrates his victory before Castiel manages to speak. “I’m sorry I laughed at you,” he blurts.

That’s not what Dean was expecting. “Huh?” he manages.

“The other day, when I was calling to Meg, and— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.” Castiel looks pretty devastated, actually. He looks about as embarrassed and uncomfortable as Dean felt the other day.

“Oh. S’okay,” Dean mutters, scuffling his feet. He has to look down, away from the earnest intensity in those blue eyes.

“I really would like to buy you that drink if you’d like. Or you could come over for one at my place?”

Dean’s head snaps up, and just like that, he’s lost whatever upper hand he may have had. If, in fact, he ever had one at all.

“I… uh… that would… yeah, okay. Yeah, that would be… uh… nice, yeah. Thanks.” Dean groans inwardly, but Castiel’s face lights up. The smile from the other day is back— the one that sets butterflies fluttering inside Dean.

They makes plans for drinks at Castiel’s house that evening. As Dean walks back to his own place, willing himself not to skip with glee, Castiel calls after him.

“See you tonight then, sweetheart!” Cas winks as he turns back to his house.

Dean rolls his eyes and smiles to himself as makes his way up his own front walk. Not even the sagging porch and peeling paint can dampen his spirits. It turns out this is the perfect house after all.


End file.
